Stop on a Dime
by chizry
Summary: COMPLETED. In response to a challenge. Everybody knows an eighteen wheeler can't stop on a dime. Gregcentric.
1. Wizard of Oz

**Title: **Stop on a Dime  
**Rating: **R  
**Disclaimer:** What you recognize isn't mine; it belongs to CBS. And no-one will be seriously hurt.  
**A/N:** Companion piece or sequel to "Bubbles in the Wine", but can stand alone. Spoilers for Grave Danger, for those who haven't seen it. In response to a challenge:  
1. set after Grave Danger  
2. Greg/Sara friendship or Greg/Sara  
3. Everyone is still reeling over Nick's experience in the Plexiglas coffin; Greg decides that he could use a little break.  
4. So he asks Grissom to take at least a week vacation time, to which Grissom agrees.  
5. Knowing why he's leaving Sara asks him to keep in touch, call  
her at least once a day, since they've become closer.  
6. On his break he goes back to California to visit family and friends. While there he gets in a car accident, which puts him in a coma (comatose)  
7. Friends and family gather a friend or family member who met Nick or Sara calls them to fill them in on what's going on. Hearing the news they all rush to California.  
8. How does everyone react? Nick? Sara? Grissom? Cath? Warrick? Archie? So on and so forth. What happens in the end?  
9. MUST USE characters; Grissom, Greg, Sara, Nick, Warrick, Archie,  
Hodges, Bobby D, Greg's family. any other characters up to you

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Everybody knows an eighteen wheeler can't stop on a dime.

You can slam the brakes, you can honk your horn, you can jerk the steering wheel to the side as hard as you can, but you can't stop them.

They can't stop you.

They can hit the brakes, they can blare their horn, they can turn their steering wheel to the side as hard as they can, but they can't stop you.

Everybody knows that.

Everybody.

--------------------------------------------------

She honestly couldn't believe her life after moving here to Las Vegas. One thing after another, strange people and strange ideas. Made California look bleak, just like Kansas in that Wizard of Oz movie Greg got her to watch over and over again.

All because she told him she had never seen the movie in her life.

"What!" Greg had exclaimed after she confessed this fact during one of her sleepover stays at his apartment. "How can you not have seen the Wizard of Oz? It's like, living without breathing!"

Sara gave him an annoyed look. "What's so special about this movie?"

Babbling about some flying monkeys and a field full of posies, he had dragged her to his overstuffed couch and forced her to watch his 'all-time favorite' movie.

At the end, she had to admit it was pretty good, even though it still didn't rank the highest on her list. Cheesy music and wacky characters aside, it was funny and childish.

Yep, California was Kansas and Las Vegas was definitely the Land of Oz.

Nick definitely reminded her of those cute little Munchkins who had a big heart but sometimes needed others to get them out of big trouble.

And Walter Gordon was the Wicked Witch of the West who was that big trouble.

Damn those evil villains.

--------------------------------------------------

All he could remember was glass and metal.

Shards of sharp glass and burning pieces of hot metal.

He did remember the screech, the honking, and the ear-deafening sound of metal crushing metal.

Staring into the blinding glare of headlights and hitting a hulking dark shadow that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Rivets of blood running cold trails against his sweaty skin.

The sirens, flashing their bright reds and blues.

That was the last thing he remembered.

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"Break. I need a break," the messy-haired CSI muttered as he wandered throughout the crime lab.

Grissom turned an inquisitive eye towards him. "What did you say, Greg?"

He shrugged. "I need a break."

His boss frowned, taking in the younger man's unkempt look. "Are you sure it's not just the coffee?" He pointed out Greg's slightly shaking hands holding the cup.

Greg shook his head. "Nu-uh. A break. Like a week or two, Grissom. Unlike Sara, I'd like to use my break time." It wasn't the real reason, but the older man chose not to press the issue.

Raising an eyebrow instead, Grissom nodded reluctantly. "A week. Starting at the end of shift. If you're not back by then, we're going to personally hunt you down, you hear?" He tipped his head toward the layout room. "Go and help Nick and Catherine finish up the case."

"Aye aye, sir." Managing a smile, Greg mocked a salute and marched back to said room.

With a roll of his eyes, Grissom ran a hand tiredly through his salt and pepper hair and went back to what he was doing.

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White.

That's where he was, in a white room that seemingly stretched into nothing. There were hazy figures, muttering incoherently and vanishing into the colorless walls one by one.

He tried to speak, but to his utter disappointment he couldn't say a word. Whatever sounds that left his mouth had turned into invisible cloudy mists.

Surrounded by nothing but white.

Where was he?

--------------------------------------------------

A few hours later, a while before shift ended, Sara bumped into Greg at the locker room-literally.

"Woah, Greg. You alright?" The brunette questioned in worry as her friend seemed to have not noticed that he had walked right into her. He just nodded, opening his locker to store away everything-including his badge, she noticed. "What are you doing?"

"Break. A week." He said shortly as he got ready to close his locker.

Giving a small frown, she looked at him closely. Exhaustion didn't even begin to describe what she saw in his eyes. "Give me a call, okay? Every day."

The deep concern he saw sparkling in her eyes told him she knew how he felt too. "Yeah. It's just that-"

"It's hard after what happened to Nick."

"Yeah." Silence settled tensely over the two as they mulled over fire ants and Plexiglas coffins. "I'll get Emily to call you too."

The smile on Sara's face brightened up a bit as she fondly recalled his older sister. "I'd like that." Her dark chocolate eyes twinkled a bit. "Too bad I can't come with you. It'd be great to see her and Matt again."

"Hopefully under different circumstances."

Her smile faded just a little bit as she remembered exactly what happened the first time she met Greg's family. Oh, how she did not want any memories of that day. Alcohol was to blame, of course. "Uh…yeah. But do tell them I said hi. And call. Definitely remember to call." Sara reminded him warmly, giving him another smile.

"How can I forget?" He teased, finally grinning when he walked out the door. He still had work to do, after all.

--------------------------------------------------

Lifting his head from what seemed to be a cold surface, he glanced up at the clock that was in his line of vision.

Crap, it was way past the end of shift. How long did he sleep anyway?

Grissom was going to kick his ass next shift.

Shaking off the sleepiness in his legs, Greg stood up and left the break room. Grissom was going to kill him for napping during their meeting, but he was sure that the older man wouldn't mind too much.

Blinking in surprise, he noticed that everything seemed blurry, unfocused. Weird. He brushed it off as drowsiness.

Glancing around, he saw that the lab was nearly empty, save for some of the extremely early dayshift people and triple shifters from graveyard.

Hodges, upon peering into trace, was still working on the green and yellow thread from Sara's and Grissom's triple homicide.

Knowing those two workaholics, they weren't even going to go home. And Sara had already racked up about ten weeks worth of vacation time to boot.

A few feet further down the hallway, he heard Bobby, Nick, Warrick, and Archie laughing at some ridiculous video that Archie had downloaded from the Net.

Walking over into the audio room, he saw that it was one of those videos off of those joke sites. Grinning, Greg felt relief flood him as he saw Nick in good spirits again before his live burial.

It was good to see things getting back to normal, if albeit slowly.

Intently staring at the group of friends, he didn't see the table of audio equipment in front of him and bumped roughly into it.

His chocolate eyes widened in surprised horror as he stood right smack in the middle of the table, with no feeling at all, as everything began to fade into ugly shades of grey.

This wasn't a dream.

It was a fucking nightmare.


	2. Blind

**A/N:** There's a hint of House in here. Can you find it?

--------------------------------

"Greg! _Bror!_ You're here!" Petite arms crushed him in an enveloping hug as a flash of mousy brown hair collided with him.

Looking down at the top of his sister's head, Greg squirmed uncomfortably. "Can't...breate...Em," he wheezed, grinning cheekily as she let him go with an elbow to the ribs.

"_Svekling,_" Emily teased affectionately with a smile. "I didn't think you were coming so soon. Where's Sara?" Her eyes twinkled in mischief.

He shook his head, shifting embarassedly from foot to foot. Seeing a tall figure come up, he used the person as an excuse. "Hey, Matt!" The former labrat said a little too cheerfully.

"Hey, dude!" The two men shook hands.

Wagging her finger at him in a grandmotherly fashion, Emily pouted. "Don't dodge the question!"

"What question?"

Narrowing her eyes, she glared menacingly. "Are you being intentionally dense?"

"Huh?"

Emily turned to her husband, ignoring her laughing brother for the time being. After ordering Matt to take Greg's stuff to the guest room, she fixed her attention back to the visitor. "You must be hungry," she said as the threesome headed inside the spacious two-story house. "Have you eaten anything?"

Greg shrugged. "I stopped at the Waffle House at some rest stop between LA and Vegas."

His sister rolled her eyes at him before roughly shoving him towards the kitchen. "Why didn't you say so! You need to eat!" She adominished.

Smothering a grin, he sighed dramatically as he plopped himself into a comfy stool at the breakfast bar. "You sound just like_ mamma_."

Huffing, Emily childishly poked her tongue out at him, but went on to make him a delicious double-decker turkey sandwich. Greg smiled happily.

He loved his Las Vegas family, but nothing ever beat going home to his real _familie._

--------------------------------

Huh.

It was never this dark in California. Or Vegas, for that matter.

Wait a second.

Where was he again?

That white room, he remembered.

Except now, it was black.

Weird.

Oh, wait. His eyes were closed.

Trying to open his eyes, he found that it was too much effort. His eyelids were heavy, as if they were anchored down by dead weight.

Funny though, he seemed to have all his other senses intact.

He could definitely feel something warm brushing against his hand. Soft and gentle.

Someone speaking, he heard that too. More than one person, vaguely familiar. One male, one female.

And now something wet was on his hands, cool and trickling.

It took him a moment, but then he realized he wished that he could see the crystal drops against his skin.

Tears.

--------------------------------

She stormed angrily throughout the halls of the crime lab, blue eyes darting from side to side as she searched for one Greg Sanders.

"Where the hell is he?" She muttered as the rookie lab techs told her that Greg hadn't come in and as Judy said he hadn't passed by the reception desk. "He's going to be dead when I find him."

"Who are you looking for?" An amused voice asked as the strawberry-blonde nearly trampled its owner in her rage.

Focusing on the pale face of Sara, she fumed. "Greg! I've been searching for him all fucking day and I can't find him!"

The brunette laughed, which wasn't a good idea since her co-worker was positively boiling. "Well, you're definitely looking in the wrong place, Cath."

Catherine raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow. "What are you talking about? He has to be at work!"

In turn, Sara shot her an inquistive look. "Didn't you know? He's in Cali right now."

"And what the hell is he doing there?"

Sara shrugged, but her mood diminished a bit. The Walter Gordon incident was really no light matter, and even who-gives-a-rat's-ass-about-you Ecklie was more kinder to Nick. "It's kinda nice to visit your family when you're on break, don't you think?"

"Oh." Catherine's anger deflated as she understood. "If anybody, it's Nick we should be worried about."

Frowning, Sara stood up for her friend. "Of course I'm worried. But it didn't affect only him, you know. All of us were pretty down."

"That's rich, coming from you." The barb came out unintentionally, but it was true.

Biting back a retort, the corners of Sara's mouth turned downwards even further. Sometimes she could be insensitive, but Nick was her best friend and Catherine had no right to say that she didn't care. "Greg will be giving us a call every day. Just to let us know he's alright."

Now the older woman was amused. "Us? Or you?" She knowingly teased, watching as a pink flushed through the other woman's skin.

"Me. Now if you excuse me, I've got to go see Hodges on that stationary paper I found." Sara stalked down the hallway, leaving a laughing Catherine behind.

--------------------------------

More sounds.

He lost count now, after ten people or so. They all sounded familiar, except for a few.

The few did not sounded more serious than sad, it seemed.

Everybody seemed sad. Sniffling, sobbing, sympathizing with the others.

He heard one of the unknown voices come closer, almost right next to him.

A prick into his arm, and he felt something drain from him.

It felt like blood.

It was blood.

Imagining the ruby liquid that was his life essence being taken away.

The prick disappeared, followed by what seemed like a sticky covering.

A bandaid, he guessed.

The room was still to dark to distinguish anything from too-dark shadows.

He hoped it was the kind with X-men on it.

--------------------------------

It had been a long while since he had actually seen the ocean.

The kind with real sand and actual waves and honest-to-god seagulls that pooped on the rainbow umbrellas once in a while.

Man, did the water feel great.

"This definitely beats Lake Mead!" Greg shouted to his family (extended too) as they splashed through the cool liquid in a game of Marco Polo. He wondered if Sara had ever played that game, and made a mental note to take the whole lab down to the beach for a day.

"How is that even a beach anyway?" His grandfather Olaf said incredulously as he sat in a blue beach chair at the edge of the water. "It can't be as good as this. _Umulig_!"

Greg's mother nodded in agreement from the beach towel she was sun-tanning on. "It is impossible."

Emily grinned as she dunked her brother under the surface. Giggling as he came up sputtering and spitting, she shook her head. "How you can live there is beyond me."

Wiping the water from his lips, Greg shrugged. "It's nice."

"You solve crime there. How is that nice?" His blonde cousin Tara asked in wonder. "Sounds like crap."

Greg's aunt gasped. "Tara! _Det var uhøflig! _Greg can live where he sees fit."

"_Beklager , moder._"

Nodding in approval, his aunt then turned to her blushing nephew, she smiled gently. "But she is right, _kjære. _You should stay here, with us."

He paused. He really did love his friends, especially Sara. She was his _bekjent, _his closest friend.After what happened already with him, and with what happened with Nick, it almost seemed like a good idea, though.

Almost.

Not wanting to ponder on it further, Greg turned his mind for some good ol' revenge for that dunk.

--------------------------------

Ouch was an understatement.

Even without being able to see, he could definitely feel the pain running through his legs and arms.

Needles and pins, thousands of them just poking. And poking. And poking.

God, it hurt.

Almost like a steamroller had tried to roll all his limbs flat. So that he couldn't move them.

His head, too. Seemed like somebody tried to sledgehammer his head.

It was thankfully intact though, he could tell that much.

The lab accident didn't compare to what he was feeling now.

Burns, no sweat. Paralyzed from head to toe, no way.

That word rang over and over in his pounding mind.

Paralyzed.

Oh no.


	3. Long Enough

Walking into the lab break room, Nick noticed a worried brunette sitting on the couch. He watched in half-amusment, half worry, as she kept pulling out her cell to check the screen every two minutes.

"Uh, Sar? Phones usually ring when somebody calls. You know that, right?" The cowboy CSI leaned against the doorframe and smirked when she looked at the screen for the umpteenth time.

She glared, something normally not unusual but towards Nick, it was. "Stop being such an ass," Sara snapped as she crossed her arms in irritation.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Woah, just playing around with you. Somethin' up?"

Looking up from her lap, she saw that he wasn't hurt by her insult, but instead was rather concerned. Eyes filling up with unshed tears, she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand. Here he was, only two weeks after his near-death, and she was going to bite her best friend's head off. "I'm sorry," Sara mumbled quietly. "It's just that Greg hasn't called."

Nick sat down beside her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Where has Greggo been anyway?"

A look of disbelief crossed his friend's face. "Are you kidding me? Am I the only one who knows where he is?" She said indignantly. "I thought Gris or even Cath would have told everybody by now."

"Hey, don't shoot," he drawled with his Texan accent. "He did. Sorta. Only told me and War that Greggo had a week for break, though. Lucky stiff."

"Oh."

"Anyway, Greg will call. He always does, 'member?"

Sighing, Sara nodded. "It's just that the last three days he or Emily called right about now."

With surprise, Nick chanced a glance at the room clock. "At four o'clock in the morning? He's insane!" He chuckled. "If I had a week off, I'd be asleep 24/7!"

"With a family as big as the one he's got, he's lucky if he even gets to sleep." Smiling, she relaxed a little bit. "You're right. Greg's probably busy having so much fun he's forgotten about little ol' us."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

If only she knew.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Drive back safely, _kjære._" Greg's mother warned as he piled into the driver seat of his lime-green BMW. "California isn't any safer than Vegas at night."

He nodded, waving back at his parents who were standing on their front porch.

"You do remember the way back to Emily's house, I hope?"

"Of course, _pappa_." Closing the door, Greg waved one last time and backed out of the driveway onto the road.

Once back onto the highway, Greg turned on the radio in time to hear a Marilyn Manson song blare through the speakers. He grinned; it was one of his favorites. Tapping in beat to the music, he steered off the highway onto a more darker street. Only one or two cars passed in the opposite lane.

Another turn, and he was on a nearly pitch-black road with nobody in sight. He sighed. That earlier storm must have knocked out the power in the area. A NOFX song began to play as soon as the other song faded out. Happily, he sung off-key with the lyrics.

Turning around a rather sharp corner, he saw the glare of lights appear suddenly around the trees in front of him.

Jerking the steering wheel to the right as hard as he could, he felt the side of the car collide with the guardrail. A loud screech filled the air as metal scraped against metal.

Brakes squealed as the driver of the eighteen wheeler slammed on the pedal, he doing the same.

In a body-jarring crash, blinding light filled the small vehicle as it was shoved several meters back before it flew to a grinding halt against a large tree.

The windshield shattered upon impact, airbags deploying immediately after.

Shouting filled the air as the overly large truck finally stopped and the old man inside jumped out.

His mind only knew the blinding light.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a while.

Long enough to see that he couldn't wake up, no matter how hard he tried.

Long enough to figure out that his family and friends were here, with him, even though he couldn't talk or see them.

Long enough to find out that it was Sara who had cried those tears on his hand.

Long enough to know that this wasn't a room anymore.

Too long.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Six o'clock and shift was nearing to an end. By now, Sara was pacing the DNA lab nervously, fumbling with the phone.

At the first ring, she nearly dropped it in shock and flipped it open to find that it was Emily. Pushing the talk button, she almost screamed with relief. "Emily! I thought you guys had forgetten to call!"

Silence greeted her. Maybe it was a bad connection. Trying again, she said, "Emily? You there?"

Noisy sobbing filled her ears in reply. Worriedly, Sara tried to figure out what her friend was saying. "Em? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Coming up behind her, Nick leaned in a little as he heard the sounds from across the room. "What's going on?"

She shrugged, and listened as Greg's sister finally slowed down her crying.

"Something happened. He's..." Here, Emily stopped.

Creasing her forehead in confusion, Sara queried, "He's what?"

There was a pause, and then more crying as the other woman said something about "hospital" and "coma".

"Calm down, Em. What about the hospital? Is Matt alright?"

"No, not Matt...Greg! He's been in an accident!" Muffled sniffles continued, and then quieted down. "He's in a coma, Sara, and he's..."

The phone dropped to the linoleum floor in a clatter.


	4. Color

If the situation wasn't so serious, Warrick would've laughed at the idea of Ecklie having a heart.

As it was, everybody loved the labrat. More than they cared to admit, sometimes.

Ecklie, upon hearing the news of the ill-fated accident, practically shoved them out the doors and told them to visit Greg. They had a week, he said, and if they didn't come back he'd personally go over there and kick their asses back to the lab. Which wasn't really a surprising threat. In reality, their supervisor probably only wanted to know whether or not he'd need to hire a new CSI, but it was the idea that counted.

Stealing a glance in the rearview mirror of his Tahoe, the dark-skinned CSI noted that Sara had finally fallen asleep in the backseat with her head resting on Nick's shoulder.

He and Nick traded worried looks. It had only been several hours since the phone call, but by the way she looked it seemed like days.

"Where's Grissom?" Catherine asked, bringing Warrick's attention back to the road.

Nick sighed. "Ecklie wanted him to find replacements for us before he left. He'll be behind us by about an hour," he explained, rubbing a hand over his face. "Only Ecklie would think about work at a time like this."

A dry humorless chuckle escaped from Warrick's lips. "That's Ecklie for you. He doesn't give a shit about anybody but himself."

Silence settled tensely inside the car at his words.

"How much longer till we get there?" Sara muttered, waking up from her nap.

"About half an hour."

"Take the back roads. Less traffic." Her voice was calm, controlled, but too much to be unaffected.

Catherine turned around in her seat to face the younger woman. "He'll be alright, Sara." She didn't voice her own fears, knowing that their quirky friend really wasn't.

"Don't lie to me, Cath, just to make yourself feel better," the brunette snapped tersely. "I don't need to hear any sensitive crap."

The strawberry blonde's eyes flashed in anger but kept tongue in cheek, literally. Seeing the brewing danger, Nick stepped in.

Rubbing Sara's shoulders, he whispered, "Relax, Sara. You're not the only one who cares."

She sagged in defeat. There was no reason for her to raise her temper, especially since Catherine was just trying to help. "Sorry. Just...I'm really worried, that's all."

"We all are." The older woman offered a small smile, to which Sara didn't return.

One by one, they all turned to look outside the windows to see the world of healthy and happy people.

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Fuzzily, he heard a voice.

Something about bones...blood...metal disc...spinal cords.

The voice faded away, but not before he heard the last word.

Paralyzed.

His heart froze in its metronome beat.

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"What the fuck are you telling me? That he's paralyzed?" Emily and Nick rushed over before Sara could blow up the doctor with her anger.

Grabbing her friend by the wrist, Greg's sister pulled her away, leaving the Texan to deal with the doctor.

Mouth set in a thin line, Nick inquired, "What's this about Greg being paralyzed..." He glanced at the doctor's name tag. "Dr. Bell?"

The doctor ran a hand through his greying hair before replying. "As I was saying before Miss Sidle over there interrupted me, Mr. Sanders IS paralyzed. From the waist down."

Dread filled Nick at the words. "So you're saying he'll never walk again?" Unshed tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, and he angrily swiped them away with the back of his hand.

At that moment, a furious Sara hit the wall with a tightly clenched fist. She grimaced as the pain shot through her arm like a rocket.

Frowning, Nick turned around to face her, who was watching him with wide doe eyes. He saw the lost and confused look on her face, and his heart fell further. Noticing she had wet tracks running down her haggard face, he wiped them off and gave her another brotherly squeeze.

"He's gonna be fine, Sar," he comforted with a smile.

"But..." she stammered. "The doctor said he was paralyzed!" Fresh tears began to roll down her pale cheeks.

There was a pause as Nick didn't know what to say to that. Instead, he lamely replied, "It really is going to be okay, alright? Don't cry." Nick held her as she cried into his shirt.

They were that way for a while, until he was sure his shirt was soaked through. "You mind, Sar? I need to change my shirt." He grinned affectionately as she blushed in embarrassment.

"Sorry," she murmured. Letting go of him, she turned to face the window of Greg's room.

Nothing was going to be alright.

-------------------------------------------------

Ah! His mind screamed as his vision was filled with incredibly bright light.

Wait. Light?

Blinking once or twice, the light faded a little and he could see that the sun was shining through the curtained window.

It wasn't a dream now, the shapes and the shadows.

Rolling over to his side, he grinned. Flowers, candy, and well-wish cards galore littered the bedside table.

The balloons caught his eye. A whole multitude colors he could actually distinguish: the reds, blues, yellows, the whole rainbow.

Right then and there, Greg swore he would never take blind people for granted ever again.

How they could go on without ever seeing the world was something he couldn't fathom, and hoped he wouldn't ever personally find out.

Weakly, he used his arms to push himself into a sitting position, wincing at the soreness he got from the countless bruises and scrapes. A couple of fingers, he noticed, were in splints-must have broken them.

Damn. Lucky duck, he thought; nothing all too serious except for the broken arm. Funny, he couldn't move his legs either. He began to reach for the glass of water sitting next to a fruit basket.

-------------------------------------------------

One second, Sara was outside in the hallway, peering in worriedly through the glass. The next second, she was smothering Greg in bone-crushing hugs.

"Nice to see you, Sara, really," Greg managed to gasp out as she held onto him for dear life. He dropped the water cup back onto the table, not really wanting to slice his hand with glass.

She didn't say a word, torn between slapping him for scaring them all and kissing him in relief. After pushing the call button for the doctor, Sara finally spoke."You're awake," she muttered quietly.

He grinned wryly. "I noticed." He gestured towards his gifts. "Where'd all these come from?" Greg picked up one of the packages of candy and made a face. Chocolate covered grasshoppers. "Don't tell me. Grissom."

Sara gave him a small smile and pointed towards the small fruit basket. "Ecklie."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Wow. I feel loved," he smirked.

Refraining from rolling her eyes, she tentatively sat down at the edge of his bed. "You've got no idea how close you were to not seeing us again," she berated gently. "We would've gone insane without you."

"Don't you already?" He quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

It fell flat, Sara's mouth curving downwards into a deep frown. "Not funny."

The pair looked up as the door to the sterile white room opened. Revealing a procession of family and friends, Dr. Bell led them all in, with a few nurses in tow.

The first thing that Catherine did was giving Greg a pinch on his arm. He yelped, glaring at the motherly woman as he rubbed the sore spot. "What was that for, Cath?"

"For scaring us to death," she laughed, giving him a peck on the cheek and a gentle hug.

The doctor stood in the background as family and friends alike offered their hugs and kisses. "You're a lucky fellow, Mr. Sanders," Dr. Bell commented. He motioned for the nurses to prep Greg for transportation.

"Wait. What are you doing?" The confused patient demanded as the hospital personnel unlocked the gurney wheels. He'd just gotten up, and they were already moving him? Couldn't he say hi to his friends? It wasn't like he could up and run anywhere.

His protests went ignored as the doctor busied himself with the machines and other medical equipment.

As the doctor headed out the room, Greg protested one last time. "Where are you taking me?"

Dr. Bell gave a comforting smile as they began to wheel him out of the room. "You do want to walk again, don't you?"


	5. Any Other Way

**A/N: **Because SO many people have asked for me to continue this story...voila! This is to tie up loose ends.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Hey there, Robbins Jr." Nick drawled as Greg took his first steps into the lab in a month.

Leaning lightly on a metal cane that resembled the one Dr. Robbins owned, Greg chuckled. "Without the prosthetic leg. And definitely not permanent."

Clapping Greg on the back, the Texan CSI laughed and turned to his bodyguard. "So how you've been, Sar?" He smiled, giving her a one-armed hug.

She frowned, then grinned up at him. "As good as anything. Greg only needs physical therapy 'bout once a week now. Taken longer than the doctor thought, but..."

"Better than nothin', right?"

The brunette nodded. "Put metal discs to replace the spinal cord discs he fractured. It's gonna take some time, but that's what happens when trucks and cars can't stop on a dime." She drifted off, then shook her head. "If all goes well, he'll be off the cane in about half a year."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Nick said, relieved.

Overhearing, Warrick jumped into the conversation. "Good to hear, man," he congratulated, shaking the man's hand.

"Thanks." Greg smiled in appreciation. Tapping the cane against the tiled floor, he laughed. "I'm a lucky man, it seems." He glanced down at the grey bar in his hand. "You know, I didn't even know I was paralyzed."

The group of friends nodded in unison. "Well, we knew...believe me, if you scare us like that again I will kill you and get away from it." Sara reprimanded, only half-teasing. Even though it wasn't real, the nightmare of Greg unable to move his legs was real enough to her.

When Nick was buried alive under the nursery soil, that was pure torture. But, it was something she could control: find him, he's alive. But with Greg...the world came crashing down. One way or another, he was either temporarily hurt, permanently handicapped, or...dead. And that was something she couldn't control, something she wished that she had had control over.

All that glass and blood, it flashed through her mind sometimes, even though she hadn't been there.

She unconciously shivered, causing the men to look at her.

"Y'alright there?" Nick looked at her in concern, pulling her tighter in his embrace. He was unaware of Greg's frown at this movement-which Warrick was certainly aware of and thorougly amused by. However, he didn't comment.

She nodded, then leaned her head on Nick's shoulder, just as oblivious to her boyfriend's jealousy as her best friend was.

"Jealous much, Greg?" Warrick laughed as Greg scowled.

"I've got every reason to be. That's my girlfriend there Nick's got a hold of," he complained, not too loudly. Ecklie would have had their necks if he caught wind...and everyone knew how Ecklie was married to his carrer. Interoffice relationships did not sit well with their head of department.

Warrick looked at the couple of astonishment. He stood there, gaping, until Nick jabbed him in the stomach. "You guys are dating?"

Nick laughed. "'Bout time, you two." His expression turned serious, and he directed his attention to Greg.. "You hurt her, and you're gonna go through me," the CSI threatened warningly.

Greg held up his hands in surrender. "I know, I know. Texan style kick-my-"

A quick muffle of the lips silenced him, and stepping back Sara admired her work. It was nice knowing you had that power over a man.

The other two men laughed. "Got you wrapped around her finger, Sanders," Nick joked, enjoying the fact that only Sara could get the usually motor-mouth guy to shut up.

He shrugged, straightening himself on his cane. He smiled, giving the side of Sara's neck a kiss. "Wouldn't have it any other way."


End file.
